


Spooklock's Trick or Treat Halloween Ficlets 2018

by spooklock



Series: Spooklock's Trick or Treat Halloween Headcanons [1]
Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Halloween, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 15:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17004600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooklock/pseuds/spooklock
Summary: This is a short collection of ficlets, some Halloween themed and some not. It's a grab bag, so I think there's something here for everyone!





	1. Sherlock's First Jack O Lantern

**Author's Note:**

> Trick or treat! Can I have some Johnlock headcanon featuring pumpkins please?  
> -redvanillabee  
> ABSOLUTELY my lovely friend! (Hi btw I see you in my notifications all the time I love you 😂)

“You mean to tell me you’ve never carved a pumpkin before?”

“No- when would I have carved a pumpkin, John?”

“Dunno love, honestly would’ve thought you’d have done it by now just out of curiosity if nothing else. You know it’s odd and disgusting and strangely warm in a pumpkin? Feels really gross if you let your inagination wander.”

Sherlock tries to hide his intrigue. “Well. For science, then.”

“You’ll love it, I’m positive.”

They walk down rows of vines, surveying their options. “You want one that’s pretty round and with as little of this brown stuff as possible.” John said, pointing to a beat up specimen which looked as though it had been dropped in thick clay.

They went about picking their pumpkins. John found a nice tall one, with a curly stem. “Looks quite whimsical I think.” Sherlock looked and looked. He was very picky with his pumpkin picking. Eventually though, he came upon a bright orange one which was just about as perfect as they come. They got a few stares on the tube home- two grown men with pumpkins was a little unexpected, even in London.

When they got home, John pushed their chairs apart and spread some newspaper on the floor, and built a warm fire. “Think I’ll have a glass of wine, join me?”

“Are we sure we want to mix alcohol with sharp objects and messy substances?” They paused, looking one another in the eyes.

“Yes.” They agreed in unison.

Two glasses, a bottle, some interesting looking instruments, and two pumpkins were gathered on the floor.

“I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”

“Right, just take one of these-“ John said, handing Sherlock one of the bigger knoves “-and cut a hole in the bottom near the middle. “

“The bottom? I always thought the top was the lid.”

“This way it stays fresh longer. And try to cut some kind of unique shape somewhere so you can tell easily how the pieces fit. “

Sherlock flipped his pumpkin over and drove the knofe in. He began cutting, realizing how hard it was. He let small curses or grunts out here and there, clearly struggling a bit.

“This is unexpectedly difficult.”

John laughed, taking a sip of wine. “Your arms will be mush by the time you’re done, I’m sure.”

Eventually he had the two parts seperated and removed the bottom. He peered in curiously. “Oh, that’s-that’s revolting! The smell, John. You could have warned me!” John cackled cheekily. “What now, I suppose I have to touch this?”

“You can dump a lot of it, but then you need to take one of the scoops and get the rest out.”

Sherlock looked into his pumpkin with a face of hesitation. “You’ve touched how many disgusting things? Body parts? Organs?”

He rolled his sleeves up before timidly diving in. The first few scoops were apparently quite harrowing. But eventually he got used to it and was studying the guts and seeds before long. John was now doing something with his scoop inside the pumpkin- it looked a bit strenuous. “Pick a side to carve on and thin it way out with your scoop. It’ll take a bit, but you want it thin so it’s easy to carve.”

John could tell this was going to be unpleasant for Sherlock- it was repetitive and tedious, and not at all the fun part. He was surprised though at how he kept at it- especially when John had moved on to drawing and carving.

“In your expert opinion, is this thin enough?”

John reached over and checked inside his partner’s pumpkin. “Yeah seems good- you did that fairly quickly. I’d say you’re good to go.”

Finally!

They sat, carving and talking, sometimes sipping their wine. The flat was aglow in orange and purple lights. At one point Sherlock leapt up to turn on the radio- a show with classical spooky music was playing. He taught John about each piece and John told stories from Halloweens as a kid.

They traded ghost stories- some of John’s were ‘real’- or so he said. Passed down through his family. Some he heard in the army. Sherlock didn’t believe in ghosts, of course. But he did tell the story of a legendary theatre ghost from his time in prep school. Bibbins, it was called. If something went wrong, especially during any crucial moments, it was Bibbins. He lived in the light booth above the auditorium, and played with the lights and sound system. He once projected the silhouette of a man onto the wall of the theatre, though the booth was empty. Doors would lock and unlock on their own. Props went missing. A light once fell from the rafters during a performance and nearly hit a performer. One seat in the front row was noticably smaller than the rest- this was eventually noted as the chair for the theatre ghost. It was always reserved and left empty for every show.

John got a good laugh out of that one- they both did. And at long last, they were done. John had carved a moon, a cat, some bats and some stars, varrying in size. It was quite cute. Sherlock had carved a remarkably reialistic human heart, with spider webs growing around it.

“Wow- for a first attempt I’d have to say that’s quite remarkable love.”

They put their pumpkins out on the doorstep, and stood back to admire them. Mrs. Hudson had a big smile- seeing her boys relaxed and happy- and together, finally!- after so long often brought tears of joy to her eyes.

“Thank you.” Sherlock whispered into John’s hair, standing back and admiring their work.

“For what?”

“For giving me so much of what I thought I had missed out on.”

The half moon hung low and bright in the quiet air. Eventually it got a bit too chilly, so they retired to their warm flat, the knowledge that their pumpkins sat just out on their doorstep, glowing on, adding a strange comfort to the night.


	2. Halloween Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock hates Halloween. Well...at least that's what he wants everyone to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock always says that Halloween is dumb and only for kids while John vuys candies and decorations. Turns out Sherlock made a terrifying and stunning costume for himself loving this but not saying anything. He just ends up hiding behind some place and scare everyone going near him laughing his arse off when he comes back. He and John then eat the rest of the candies they did not offer and watch some horror movies cuddling.  
> -ask-weather-report  
> Thank you for submitting friend! I loved this 😂

Sherlock is definitely the type to pretend not to like the things he likes. He’s sensitive and doesn’t want anyone to think he’s not cool, or immature.

But like most gays, Halloween is his DAY. He loves it. Looks forward to it all year! The costumes, the spooks, the macabre of it all!

One day John brings home a ton of stuff to decorate the flat. “Wanna help set up? Hand out candy with me maybe?”

“Mmmmmm…Nope.” He doesn’t even look up from his phone.

“Oh come one love! You can’t possibly hate Halloween too.”

“Oh I assure you, I can and I do.”

“Alright grump. If you change your mind I could use your extra hands.”

John busies himself spreading fake spider web, setting out pumpkins, spooky candles, and other props. He strings orange lights all over. After a few hours, the inside of 221B and the hallway look amazing. He even promises to help Mrs. Hudson tomorrow, he’s done a really great job! To Sherlock’s dismay, it doesn’t really even look childish- it looks, somehow, beautiful? He wishes he felt like he could enjoy it openly.

On Halloween night, he’s invited again to hand out candy. John has on a very dashing vampire costume, and he and Mrs. Hudson (clad in witch’s hat and long green nose) are stationed at the door, ready to hand out the candy.

“Are you sure?”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to- Lestrade phoned. There’s a murder at some haunted house something or other. I’m leaving now.”

“Do you need backup?”

“No, no. Barely a 6, stay here. Don’t leave Mrs. Hudson alone- who knows who else is out to create chaos tonight.”

“Well…be careful love.” John looks clearly hurt. Sherlock’s heart pangs with guilt- it’s been years since John’s been officially ‘not invited’ on a case.

Sherlock kisses him gently. “I just want you to enjoy your evening- you like this stuff. “

“Alright.” He looks a bit less let down. Sherlock swooshes out, down the street in his all black outfit and coat, not looking entirely out of place among the costumes.

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock arrives at Spirits and Spooks’ Haunted Attraction, an immense Halloween theme park which pops up every October. But there’s no murder.

He’s greeted warmly and directed to makeup and wardrobe. In about forty-five minutes, he’s out of the makeup chair, and completely terrifying. His tall frame, pale skin and dark hair make him a perfect ghost. Soon, he’s at his favorite spot, and scaring roudy teens as they come around a dark corner.

John would never let him live this down, he thinks. He likes me as the stoic and proper man he fell for. He’s grateful to at least have this- for Sherlock Holmes to miss Halloween? London would fall.

Hours pass- his shift ends at midnight. He’s well into his grove, when a familiar few faces come around the corner- Molly, Lestrade, a few people from Bart’s and the Yard. A clearly-enjoying-herself Mrs. Hudson. And John.

Hoping his costume is elaborate enough to hide his identity, he scares the spook seekers, quickly returning to his corner. He hopes they’ll pass by, and they almost do, but-

“Sherlock?” Of course John recognized him.

He tries desperatley to look confused, but everyone’s attention is on him now. There’s no denying it.

“No, no I know that’s you. Those eyes are unmistakable.”

“Well, um…”

“When Lestrade called and invited us out I was suspicious, but I never expected you’d be here. Why, exactly, was this a secret?”

“I-I um-“ he looked nervously at the crowd.

“Could we have a second?” John asked. Everyone moved along, dejected.

“What’s that all about then?”

“Dunno- he’s a bit perfect for it though eh?”

When everyone was finally gone John turned back to his ghostly moron boyfriend.

“I’m sorry John. I didn’t intend to embarass you.”

“I’m not embarassed! I’m not even angry! I just- I’m just surprised. And a little hurt. Why did you feel you had to hide this?”

“I don’t know, really. I have a hard time letting people- you, even- see me enjoying things. I suppose it just feels…”

“Vulnerable?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Love, I- I want you to think of me as a safe place to share all of your happiness, or sadness, or anything with. Asking for your trust like that is naive, I know- I have to earn that. And I’m sorry that I haven’t by now. But if there’s anything I can do to prove to you that I love you, ghosts and all-“ they giggled- “Then please let me do it.”

“I think you just did.”

A group of people rounded the corner, almost running right into a ghost kissing a vampire. Everyone screamed, and two creatures who are supposed to be dead blushed high on their cheeks.

At ten after twelve, a ghostly figure emerged from the maze. “Ready?”

“Aren’t you supposed to give all that back?”

“I know some people. They let me borrow it for the night.”

They walked home, hand in hand. Through the crisp air. The dark, smoky sky. The street lamps. The decor and the leaves. The streets were alive with joy, as if it were Christmas. Ans John and Sherlock truly haunted the streets of London.

At home, cold hands were warmed by a hot fire and in warm cuddles. Leftover candy and other sweets, a horror film (which both tried and failed to not be scared by) and protective cuddles warmed them.

The bright moon and fire light lit the room in an ethereal glow- and Halloween was more beautiful than it had ever been.


	3. I Wanna Hold Your Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An absolutely shameless indulgance in romantic tropey hand holding fluff. Allusions to sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trick or Treat!!! Can I pls has a ficlet of John holding Sherlock’s hand?! For any reason!  
> -sherlocksmolmes  
> Woooo hi friend! Yes ofc thank you for requesting! My brain and heart exploded so I couldn’t pick one instance. Here are several!

John and Sherlock love holding hands. It’s a reflex, and one that they develop quickly.

The first time they held hands they had only just started being more open about their feelings for one another. They hadn’t even kissed yet. But, there it was- John’s hand in his in the back of a cab on their way home. Sherlock lost his gloves somewhere, and his hands were ice cold.

John held the hand he could reach between his two warmer ones. His fingers intwined with the cold, white fingers of Sherlock’s hand, his other hand stroking across the top, creating light friction. Sherlock turned, giving John his other hand. Which he took, repeating the actions. It was so easy, too- John’s initial action wasn’t too forward, and it only made sense to offer his other hand to warm up.

After he was warmed up, ome hand remained intertwined with John’s. It didn’t feel odd. It wasn’t scary. It just fit.

After they confess, though, their hands are together at every possible moment.

In the bath, with John leaning against Sherlock. The bigger man finds John’s hands under the bubbles and folds them together. Playing mindlessly with fingers and tracing palms.

John’s hand in Sherlock’s on the sofa, watching tv and drinking wine. Stroking gently over his thumb, paying more attention to that than the movie.

Hands clasped firmly waiting in the doctor’s office, nervously awaiting test results. John’s mouth, gently kissing Sherlock’s hand once they’re alone again. Relieved. Palms a bit warm.

Even trying to hold hands while chasing a suspect now and then- the idiots. It’s awkward and looks ridiculous. They laugh anyway.

At night. Somehow finding one another’s hands in their sleep. Often waking up holding hands, not having fallen asleep that way. And in bed, taking a moment to cath their breath. John’s hand taking Sherlock’s from it’s place on his hip. He kisses it. Then Sherlock mirrors it, kissing John’s. He moves their clasped hands down just a bit to press the back of John’s hand to his thudding heart.

They like holding hands a lot, ok?


	4. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock composes for John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trick or treat! Can I have a fluffy fic for Halloween? 😆  
> -sarahthesorceress  
> YAAAAAAAY YOU SURE CAN FRIEND!

Sherlock composes songs all the time. Some are about John; some are for John. Those are the ones he plays for him. But he has a stash hidden away of ones-some incomplete, some very very old. As in: back before they were even together, that’s how old.

 

One day John’s fed up woth the clutter and accidentally happens upon the stash. He doesn’t think much of it, just a bunch of scribbley notes on staff paper. But he wants to put them away in a respectful manner- doesn’t want them to get lost or out of order (if there is an order). So he turns to Sherlock with the crumpley folder open in his hands and asks.

 

“Where can I put these love? Found them all smushed between the bookcase and the wall. With the others or-?”

 

He looks up from the folder to see his partner, rushing over, making grabby hands at the papers. He takes them and snaps the folder shut. He’s bright red at the tops of his cheeks and tip of his nose.

 

“What? Was I not supposed to see that?”

 

“That’s um…they’re not…done yet.”

 

“Well, that’s fine. But I saw that at least one of those WAS actually done. Has a title and everything.”

 

With horror at not recalling the particular composition in reference, he flips through the folder quickly. He spots the only titled piece, heart sinking.

 

“If you want a stash of musical compositions that are secret, that’s fine love. It’s your thing and your space- you’re entitled to that. But you can always share with me. If you want, that is. I’m not- I mean, I’ll always love anything you show me.”

 

“How could you possibly know that?”

 

“Because!” John strides over, noting the second snapping shut of the folder. He strokes up and down Sherlock’s arms, meeting his eyes. “Because any time you trust me enough to let me see, especially if it’s scary, I’ll already be so enamored, and honored, I couldn’t muster up a harsh comment if I tried. “

 

Fifteen minutes later, the last reverberating notes of a song simply titled “John” bounced through the air. They left tingles on John’s arms, and chills on his neck. He rose from his chair as the violin was lowered, holding his partner about the waist. He placed one lingering kiss on his shoulder, and then the chin, where the instrument had just left. Then down the arm, still holding the bow. Soft, chaste kisses here and there. Finally he lifted the hand and kissed it, careful not to knock the bow into anything.

 

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! It came to me in a bit of a children’s story sort of voice. I just wanted them to have a nice and happy time! Also the story of Bibbins is the actual story of a real life theatre ghost from my actual high school.


End file.
